Maelstrom
by Cryosmith
Summary: Ah, Vegas. Hookers, Booze. A paradise, really! But that's the strip, for now at least. It's only a matter of time before the Maelstrom of the world, and of the courier comes knocking.
1. An End and a Begining

"What the fuck…" I tried groaned out as i woke, but a gag cut me short, the last i remembered, I'd been walking along the road when i heard a noise. Now my hands are bound by rope and some pricks are staring me in the face. Two of them looked like gangsters, that wasn't a huge surprise, waking up with some half crazed raider in your face. But the guy in the middle? He looked like one of the big vegas boys, the suit, the hair, he screamed "I'm trying to not be a wastelander!"

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" Ah, so the two lovely looking gentlemen to the sides of him were khans, wonderful. He stomped out his cigarette before looking up apologetically. He took out a chip, wait a chip? No… that was my chip! My package!"You've made your last delivery kid." He put the chip away, back into his coat. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He withdrew his hand from his coat and pulled out a handgun. My blood ran cold, I tried to move, but ropes held me. I tried to scream, but I was gagged. I tried to live, but my number ran up, my card pulled. I'd said hit on a twenty and got a one.

"From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck." Time slowed, everything felt like it was happening and not happening at the same time, my entire life didn't flash before my eyes, but a few choice moments came through clear enough.

"Truth is...the game was rigged from the start"

* * *

I fucking hated sleep. I mean, it's understandable right? It's eight to twelve hours of doing absolutely nothing! There's no rhyme or reason to it, no point beyond your body complaining about it and you wanting to please your body! In that time I could be eating, hunting, reading (Though finding a book may be tough.) or doing anything else other than laying there, a prime target for getting my throat cut by some punk who wants the shiny pistol holstered on my hip!

So, when I woke up after being shot in the head, with a feeling like my worst hangover combined with a night of MMA, bar fights and well, getting shot in the head, I wasn't a happy camper.

When I opened my eyes, I shut them again immediately. The world was just too bright.

Conveniently, there was an old man sitting right next to me who happened to notice the bone dry rasping of my throat attempting to recreate human speech. He said something about slowing down or something, but I'll be honest and say I wasn't listening. I got the general gist of it, a soothing tone in an effort to get me to stay still or something, but for one I needed to stretch, and two my head hurt so goddamn much that I was beyond caring about whatever he said.

Slowly, but as sure as the fact that the sun would rise too, I sat up and took a sip of water, it tasted sweet, like only a thirsty mouth can make it taste. Then I drank another, and a third, until it tasted like bland minerals like usual. It was also around that time that my fuck off huge headache started to dissipate enough for me to comprehend basic functions such as talking.

"I'm Doc Mitchell," The old man said with a kind smile. "You've been out fer about two weeks after that bullet knocked around your noggin."

I muttered some incomprehensible reply before clearing my throat and actually speaking for real. "Have you got any food?" I asked tentatively, my tone was quiet and slow but inside, I raged. My voice! One of the best parts of me, smooth, pleasant, and when combined with the right actions, a multitool for any situation, had been reduced to the slow and weighty words of some oaf whose job it was to eat lead paint and try not to shit himself because he forgot to go to the bathroom!

The old man laughed and promised a hot meal to me but then his face grew somewhat nervous. "Now, that bullet, it hit you head son… And though I got steady hands and a sharp scalpel, I'm no plastic surgeon, you might wanna take a look." As he finished his sentence, he pulled a mirror from seemingly nowhere and gently placed in into my hands. "Let me just cut off those bandages,"

When he was done I steeled myself for a repeat of the nuclear holocaust, except of course in miniature and much, much more important due to the fact that it was my face! When I looked down and gazed on myself, a breath of relief sighed out of my lungs. My hair was shaggier, and a beard had grown, but for the most part, my face was fine. The same ice blue eyes were set in my skull, hell if anything I think my new hair made me look better! Oh and there was a massive scar on the side of my head from where the bullet hit me, but a few stimpacks, extensive surgery, the possibility seeing of a barber about sweeping some hair over it and least of all, the all consuming and unquenchable fire that demanded my total and utter revenge on the man who did this to me, to burn his world to the fucking ground in front of his face until it was all gone and then beating him to death with my bare hands made it seem not too bad.

We went through the rest of the basic procedures of a doctor's office, measuring my height, weight, a psychiatric test, the usual. Then we got to the good part, an entire three course meal.

I'd never been so hungry in my life! I vacuumed down the appetizer (Fried squirrel in a sauce made from Nuka, yum!) then I annihilated the entree, which was a delicious mix of stunted vegetables, some sort steak all topped with potatoes! And the desert… by God himself, it may have been a two hundred year old likely irradiated chocolate cake mix, but in the moment of my first bite I was born, I died, I achieved nirvana and lost my virginity all in a second. By the end, my stomach, which had been reduced in size, felt bloated and full, though in a good way.

"So," I began. "Who pulled me outta the grave?" My voice had begun to regain some shred of its old self with practice, and I had a feeling I would be practicing a lot before the night ended.

The Doc rolled his tongue around his mouth for a few moments before finally spitting out. "Robot, goes by the name of Victor. One'a them securitrains or whatever they've got guarding the Strip. Nice enough, but strange, rolled into town some ten years back? Seems like some sort of spy or something to me, never reveals anything, though that could be because he doesn't remember them himself. It's like, oh I dunno I guess like he's… inactive and waiting for a signal to start."

I digested that tidbit before asking awkwardly. "Doc, I appreciate the hospitality, I really truly do, but I don't have any money."

He snorted out a laugh. "Robot covered the bill, don't worry." With that, he set up a pot of instant coffee, fresh from a can packaged over a century ago.

We sat and drank our black and bitter brew while music softly echoed through the small house, mild conversation ensued in the meantime while we worked our way through the pot until night fell. At his insistence, I stayed the night so he could watch over me, though before I fell asleep he jolted with surprise and said. "I never even asked your name!"

I considered lying for a moment but then decided to tell the truth to the man who had been so kind to me.

"My name is Hiram Pershing." And I laid there, telling sleep and my body that it was fucking stupid until I finally succumbed.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up without a headache, and with a large breakfast provided once again by the Doc. Some sort of eggs, unknown sausage, and even centuries old toast! A nutritious and filling meal!

By the time breakfast was completed and the seemingly bottom pit of my stomach filled, the Doc came around with my equipment, what a fine sight to see. Thank Christ those idiots were too busy burying me to steal my shit.

First, i dressed in my clothes, made sure everything in my backpack was there, and then came the weapons check. My knife was fine, my ammo seemed to be there and… Yes! There it was! My sleek, light, carbine. Originally a handgun, I paid a veritable fortune for a former Gun Runner engineer to give it the works, an extended magazine, stock, longer barrel. It was small, easy to use and light as hell, good for a courier on the go.

With my stuff squared away, I thanked the Doc one last time and stepped outside.

Author's Note: So, I don't exactly know how often I'm going to be able to update this story. I'm shooting for a chapter a month, but between working, classes and the gym I'm usually up top my neck in stuff to do. Anyways, thanks for reading! I'm looking for someone to Beta-Read this, so if you're interested by all means, PM me and I'll get back as soon as I'm able. Leave a review, they're always helpful! - Cryosmith


	2. Baby Steps

Chapter 2

So I probably should've worn sunglasses. Two weeks in a coma and an entire day spent inside because I was too weak to even walk a mile doesn't exactly prepare the human eye for the ever bright desert sun. That being said, after a couple minutes of sitting on the porch staring blankly into nothing, solved the problem fine enough.

While I sat there, I did a physical inspection of myself. My usually strong, thick form now seemed much skinner. The muscles in my calves, once iron hard from walking the wastes, were atrophied and weaker than I could ever remember them being. At the very least, however, I could still stand and walk. Once all that was done, I walked into the town the Doc had informed was Goodsprings.

I mean I guess you could call it a town, but that was being generous. An outpost? No, that didn't seem right, it didn't have the rustic charm of a village either. In the end, I decided on the mixture of desperate yet hardy people and the sort of "Hole in the wall" feeling that accompanied a settlement. Not that it particularly mattered much, but proper terminology always made me warm and fuzzy inside. Well, it was that or intense doses of radiation. Both?

Either way, there was something charming about the bar that dominated the area what with its single tumbleweed that blew out front and the fancy neon sign that advertised how it was the "Prospector Saloon." I'll tell you, I'm not sure where they got the power, but that single fucking neon sign sure was a sight to see, I'll tell you boy howdy!

As I stepped through the door, the desiccated corpse of a man sitting down looked up and me.

"Don't wanna go in there." He warned, his voice was unusually strong for someone both so old and who looked like they'd seen better days when there was a sandstorm and a radscorpion stinger stuck in your ass. Of course, not that I'd know anything about the experience.

"Some Gangster in there, causing a ruckus, have half a mind to show him what for." With that, he brought a small pipe to his face and started grumbling.

"Alrighty… thanks?" I pushed the door open and sure enough, there was a ruckus about.

A dog ran up and tried to neuter me, with cries of, "Cheyenne, Stay!" Ringing out, somebody was screaming at someone else and to top it all off, I'm pretty sure the jukebox was going full blast. So I mean, all in all, a pretty average scene in a bar, all things considered.

"Sorry about that," a woman said as she jogged up to me. She was short but attractive, but the slim body yet wide hips that pre-war would kill for. A Hispanic looking face with brown hair up in a bun. "She usually doesn't bite if I don't tell her to. Anyways, I'm Sunny Smiles! You the one Doc was fixing up?" She said all this in a very fast and chipper manner, even with the screaming in the background she lived up to her name with a wide grin set on her face. I nodded my head to her question and looked towards the screaming. When she noticed my raised eyebrow in the direction of the noise her grin faded a little bit. "Powder Ganger asshole, trying to intimidate us."

Ah, so nothing unusual. Rather good in fact, raiders and gangs could be brought into line with enough force, like a pack of dogs. Except I'm pretty sure dogs are smarter. And cleaner. Wait, did I mention smarter?

I took a few tentative steps towards the noise when it abruptly stopped and a very large, very stupid looking black man rounded the corner and slammed into me. He looked at me with such a hate filled stare that I expected him to burst into flames at a moment's notice.

"Better watch where you're going Punk, I'm the big dog in town here." He said braggingly, almost like he was a playground bully in kindergarten, in essence, a stupid dangerous man, probably compensating for his tiny package and or brain.

As he made his heroic Tactical retreat from the more numerous Town people his intimidation game had failed on, I sauntered up to the bar, with a mischievous and flirty grin on my face, directed at the middle age, maternal figure that man the post of bartender. She was again, very short (I honestly couldn't tell what was with these people, malnutrition perhaps? Bad genetics? The Revenge of an ancient and Evil deity that plagues the world with its corrupting power?) anyway she came up to about 5 foot nothing but from the look on her face she looks like she could be 2 feet tall and threatened a super mutant with a switchblade. " large-and-in-charge back there giving you trouble?"

"That asshole's of part of a group of powder gangers that escaped from the correctional facility down the road. Led a few of them away for better profits and only brought us stormy skies. He's after a guy named Ringo, Ringo escaped from a raid by his gang a couple of nights ago. He stayed up in the gas station for that time. So now I'm wishing he didn't bring all that trouble down on us, maybe we did that to ourselves, though, by taking him in." She sighed and rubbed her face for a moment before finally composing herself. "Sorry, usually I play the part of the open ear. It's nice to change spots every now and again." Again she caught herself rambling on and promptly cursed herself. "What's your poison?" She asked, if only to change the topic and avoid the uncomfortable air of "My home and town may be burnt to the ground by escaped, psychopathic criminals."

I tried to speak but suddenly the loud blaring from the jukebox in the other room exploded in noise from a song. "What's with that?" I asked, half shouting.

"Radio's busted. Only way we can hear!" She replied. When I motioned for her to toss the brick sized radio to me, she raised her eyebrow but did what I wanted.

After a few minutes of tinkering (Along with a couple of shocks and somehow, a screw ending up in not so happy patrons glass across the room.) The radio crackled into life and she left to turn down the music from the other room.

Upon her return, she gave me a smile thanks. When she settled behind her counter once again, she grabbed a stack of caps and set it in front of me wordlessly. Fifty caps. Considering I had around two hundred in my pack, I was reasonably happy with the haul. However, when I stuck up my eyebrows and said: "Aw come on, this is for your knight in shining armor!" She snorted and put another twenty on the pile.

"Better spend that here!" She advised me with a mock glare.

I ordered myself a glass of fine razorgrain bourbon and settled into the stool with a charming smile. "So," I began, my eyes settling into a predatory look. "You seen any city boys around here? Maybe in some awful checkered coat?"

She scowled and gestured rudely at the radio. "Whod'ya think broke that? Bastards wanted free liquor. I got them to pay though." She said the last sentence with a grim smile in her voice. She began to look under her counter before she pulled up a booklet filled to the brim with paper. "It's a log" she explained. "Let's see… yup, Checkers and his friends bought a bottle to go."

"And where was that?" I asked slowly, in between the sipping of my fiery drink. "We have some, unfinished business." I made sure to brush my hand over the scar that dominated my head.

She nodded her head in understanding. "Went down Primm's way, probably up towards Nipton and the like."

I smiled and shook her hand. "Hiram," I said. "Much obliged."

"Trudy." She replied.

I finished off my bourbon and sat there for a moment. "Say, if a man wanted to earn his pay here, what'd he have to do?"

She considered the question for a moment and chewed her lip a bit. "Well," she cleared her throat. "Schoolhouse has a safe no one's been able to crack. Beyond that, Ringo might need an escort out of town or Chet might need something done." She frowned and said that was all she could think of, unless of course, I wanted to muck around in Brahmin shit for farmers.

I thanked her and began to pack my stuff, as I went for the door, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned and saw none other than Sunny. "I could use an extra gun for clearing gecko's from the water sources. God knows the little bastards deserve that." She said nodding towards the carbine strapped to my back. "Though you did just come out of a coma." She admitted. "Tell you what, you prove yourself good enough on the range out back, and I'll take you along. A hundred caps and half the gecko skins."

My only response was to grin savagely and pull my gun out of its holster.

"That's a fine gun." She admired after I expended my magazine down range.

"Only fires a ten milometer, but for a small scrap, it's all you really need. I'm not a mercenary after all. Well, not a military level one. Not anymore at least." She looked at me curiously for a second and then said.

"Well I guess that's good enough, matches me anyway. You ready?" She checked the magazines for her rifle and handgun.

"How many do you usually get in a group?" I asked while looking down at the reloading bench in the alley between the two shops.

"Usually five or so, why?" She questioned me.

"Cause I had an idea."

Ten minutes later I was the proud owner of two homemade grenades. It was quite simple really, I found some old cans, emptied the powder from some of Sunny's extra rounds and bought a wick from the old guy out front. The guys name was Easy Pete, pretty weird dude. Tried to question me about dynamite and explosives, but as it turns out, Sunny just cut through his crap.

Presently we were behind a rocky outcropping that protruded out of the ground conveniently right where we needed it to be. Sunny took out a lighter and carefully set the wick before tossing it through the air. It said like a metal brick, but it rang with a loud CLANG! When it slammed into a rock, by peaking over we could just see an entire horde of geckos swarming what it thought might be vulnerable prey. Instead, one snapped at the can but recoiled as it was burned, a second later the glorious cacophony of an explosion sounded off with all the force it needed to send its magnificent shrapnel (Along with quite a few pebbles.) Into the mass of bodies surrounding it.

When the smoke cleared, me and Sunny sent a couple of rounds into the stunned and dying, we quickly secured the surrounding area and our haul. Sunny smiled at our quick progress and nodded at me, though I couldn't quite tell why. I drank from the water source and we began to move further away from the town.

At the next source, we pulled the same trick and gruesome satisfaction filled our hearts. We chatted as we meandered our way back to Goodsprings, where Sunny promised me a drink for my idea. Of course, me, being me, I began to flirt with the young attractive woman.

"Maybe more than a drink?" I suggested with a sly grin. That's about the time the fucking wasteland idiots came screaming at us.

We saw her before we heard her, we readied our weapons as she approached. That's when we heard her screaming bloody murder. "Help me!" She pleaded. "Geck-ugh!" She said as she tripped and fell on the rocks. Immediately, three geckos that had been giving chase pounced on her back as she struggled to turn over.

"No guns!" I yelled over my shoulder as I sprung into action. "We'll only hit her!" I covered the distance relatively quickly and grabbed one of the reptiles by its neck and tossed it as far as I could. One of the others turned and tried to lunge at me, but I smashed its head mid-air and sent it flying into a rock. By then Sunny had dispatched the third with her hunting knife, and sent a couple rounds from her sidearm towards the now retreating geckoes.

"Hiram! Come on, we've gotta get her to Doc Mitchell!" She was bleeding badly, multiple bites and lacerations on her back. With both of us, we made good progress.

When we were approaching the town, a shot rang out and pierced the gut of the woman. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, sunny immediately shifted the lady's weight onto me as she turned and drew her rifle, already preparing to lay down fire.

I picked up the lady in both my arms and began to sprint to the Doc's. My lungs burned, my calves felt like hell boiling over and my head was clouded, but I forced myself uphill, each step felt like twenty until I burst through his door and set her down on a stretcher.

"DOC!" I screamed as loud as I could before I sprinted out the door, back to Sunny. I grabbed the carbine from my back and set it to full auto. In the distance, i could see two figures exchanging fire with Sunny, who had taken cover behind a rock. I raised the carbine and let loose in their direction, although the thirty round magazine emptied itself of .45 rounds quickly, it was enough to scare off the either undisciplined or inexperienced figures and they began to run off.

Me and Sunny began back towards the Doc's house, and I set my mind to talk to Ringo about this problem. There was no one else it could be. The Powder Gangers had declared war. They were going to lose.

AN: Tada! Thank God for snow days so this chapter could be completed o fast! Thanks for reading, I'm still looking for a beta reader so PM me if you're interested! Thanks for reading, please leave a review and tell me what you thought and how I could improve i

t.


	3. War Drums

Ringo was quite the nervous nelly as it turns out.

Not of course, that I blame him, I suppose I would be too if I were in his situation, though I must confess that I was in a very similar situation once and was markedly better behaved. Then again, I had thought I was going to die and took all the jet I could handle before hiding in The Glow until I was vomiting blood, of course, though, that's a different story altogether.

When I entered the broken down gas station, a nervous looking man drew his gun so fast it could've been the legendary Big Iron, but as I soon found out, the high-strung, yet exhausted gent was neither this nor that but instead a rather cowardly and quite normal caravanner whose work had simply taught him to draw first, apologize later. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at me, scanning everything from the drab olive field jacket and jeans I wore to the rifle that was strapped closely to my chest and the backpack which coincidentally enough, was upon my back.

"Howdy friend." He spat out. "If you're thinking of doing what I think you are, you'd best stop."

Though he put up a relatively good show of bravado, reading people was a gift of mine. From the slight tremble in his hands, which one could certainly attribute to exhaustion if they simply looked at the bags under his eyes. But if you looked closer, his eyes darted around, his feet shuffled unconsciously all while that gun shaked ever so slightly. "Calm down," I said sternly with a frown. "If I were here to kill you, I'd've just chucked some dynamite in and called it a day."

Ringo trembled for a moment more but eventually, his gun dropped, inch by inch. He let out a heavy sigh and pulled a chair up to him and plopped down into it. "What?" He asked as he set down his handgun slowly. The venom in his voice disappeared as quick as a darting fly.

"An hour ago, a young women needed help," I stated plainly. "When I took it upon myself to get her to the doctor, for you see she was badly bitten by some geckos, she was shot." His eyes slightly widened and his silence substituted a "Go on."

"She did not survive," I spoke these words without any inflections, any hint of emotion was eliminated, exterminated. "So my good friend, could you tell me, who would not only be capable of this act but also be able to do it with seemingly no provocation?"

He sat there for a moment, the beard on his face twisted downward with his mouth stuck in a frown. "Powder Gangers." He eventually hissed out, the plain anger and sorrow wrote a novel on his face.

"Exactly," I spoke quietly. "The fucking Powder Gangers!" I yelled the last part, slamming my hands down on the table while they were clenched in iron hard fists of fury. "And do you know why they did this?" At this, he looked clueless so I told him. "To draw you out."

His eyes drew wide but understanding. "Fuck." He muttered as he searched his pocket for presumably a cigarette or cigar. As it turns out, it was neither and he withdrew a flask from the inside of his shirt.

"So," I began once again. "We're going to take them down before they can do something like this again."

He snorted heavily into his drink and then went into a full blown laugh. "What?" He giggled out. "You and me? Sure! Why don't we just kill House too?" I wrinkled my nose at the name of my employer, the man who'd gotten me killed, technically speaking.

"No, I'm going to join them." He laughed even harder and took another deep swig from his flask.

He glanced up at me, bleary eyed, "You're one stupid son of a bitch, y'know that?" He mumbled out. "Fuck it, I'll die anyways. You might wanna get some of the townspeople in on this, though, whatever it is you're planning."

"Trust me." I grinned. "This is going to be fun"

* * *

"That's so stupid, it might work."

"Why thanks, Trudy, should I go fuck myself too?" The sarcastic and caustic remark tumbled out of my mouth quickly.

Luckily she chuckled and then turned her attention down to the map that lay between us. "So," She started up. "You wanna 'join" them."

"Now that would be entirely correct!" I said with a cheeky grin. "But I need the support of you. With you on our side, most of the town will join too."

She frowned and said. "Look, I'm sorry, but I need some proof that you aren't misleading us, and that even if you aren't, this won't end in a massacre for us."

"Dammit Trudy, Sunny already agreed! It's warfare, not a search for radiation, I can't guarantee anything!" She merely looked unimpressed so I redoubled my efforts. "Look," I sighed the air out from my lungs and began again. "For the plan, we have a token force in Goodsprings itself, round up a few automatics or high powered rifles so they can hold their own alright?" She nodded her assent while studying the map again.

"So, while I convince the gangers to make a few probing attacks, their camp is weak. I lead away a few groups, and then you and your people wipe out their main base."

She inspected the map closely, under the studious eye of a bar woman, it seemed like child's play. In bright red, I'd drawn out the probing attacks and most importantly, circled the main base in red. From scouting reports gleaned from sunny, it was at some place called Jean skydiving, it had a good amount of men, twenty or so, but most were high or drunk at any given time, the rest were lazily glancing into the distance for a fat, ugly caravan to lumber its way through the area.

In blue, our defensive positions were assured and our advance before the assault was drawn out with clarity.

"I don't like it." She declared. "You're the only one we have with combat experience, while you're leading those guys away, what's stopping us from failing?"

I snorted. "Beyond my planning? Nothing. But trust me, only the sober will come with me, the remains will be easy pickings. With my betrayal, your people in Goodsprings will make it."

She pursed her lips but nodded. She then turned her worried look into a smile and said. "Damn you, you're too convincing, Y'know that?"

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Could I persuade you to give me a free whiskey then?"

"Now you should go fuck yourself, Hiram."

* * *

This asshole was being such a goddamn cocksucker. You'd think that if someone's home was under threat of being pillaged to the fucking ground they'd have the sense to say. "Huh, maybe I should man one of the barricades!"

But no, this cowardly, cocksucking, cuckold named Chet refused to give us a single fucking round of ammunition for the DEFENSE OF HIS TOWN! I wanted to send my fist into his face and simply take his stock, but I don't think that'd solve a lot of problems.

"Look," He said craftily. "I can't simply give out my stock! I've got a living to make!"

"Do you know what will happen to your goddamn stock if we lose this battle?" I spoke in a quiet, yet dangerous tone that served to be more intimidating than screaming. "This fucking store will burn down with you and your stock in it. Your skin will melt like plastic and your charred bones will sit there in the ashes of your stock. The bottle caps that you have? They'll be taken and spent at a different store. So, Chet, will you donate to the cause?"

He snorted a laugh out but I saw the tension in his shoulders that he couldn't disguise. "Yeah right." He said with a forced jeer of confidence. "Like they'd deprive themselves of a useful asset like me." His confident smile never faltered but his eyes did.

"Oh, yeah! Sure! Like some fucking convicted murderer high on psycho from the caps, he extorted from you won't have a problem bashing your skull in! I fucking forgot!" His smile finally faltered but he still didn't give up.

"Come on!" He yelled. "This is extortion! I've gotta make a profit! I can give you twenty-five percent off! That's more than enough!" His slick nature shown through as he tried to grease his way through the situation.

That's when I got really angry.

He was standing behind a counter, covered in goods he peddled away. I smiled and stuck my hand out. His grin grew wider, and when he went to grab my hand for a shake, I pulled his across the counter with all my strength.

He flew onto the floor in front of me cussing and thrashing about. "You slimy fuck!" He cried out as I bent forward to put my weight on his chest.

"You'd best listen, boy." It didn't matter that he was older than me, the man was an overgrown child at worst, an infant at worst. "You're gonna equip these people, and me, and you'll do it with your goddamn cocksucking greasy ass smile. Is that clear?" I lightly rested my hand on his throat and for the first time, I saw truthful fear in his eyes.

"Get the fuck off of me! You thieving fuck! Fine, I'll do it!"

I stood myself up and nodded, while he was dusting himself off, I looked down towards the counter and spotted an old tobacco pipe.

"I'm taking this," I grunted while he powerlessly looked on.

As it turns out, the rest were easy to convince, the Doc said he'd be medical, for obvious reasons, and Pete agreed to be our demolition expert.

All that was left was for me to trick the Powder Gangers.

So, I packed up my goods and made my way down the road. I passed the water source, some packs of geckos but mostly I just enjoyed the cool evening air. With the breeze bringing in the scent of cactus flowers the half mile walk seemed longer, but in a good way, the sort of way that made a man feel at peace. I thought about the young women who had died, no one knew her. She wasn't a local, she had no identification or anything of the sort. In the end, I told some of the locals to bury her in my grave. I wasn't about to use it anytime soon.

After an amount of time, seemingly hours, I arrived at the camp. Jeans skydiving was a shack, but a well-defended shack at that, from what I spotted in the distance during the waning light of a desert sunset, the Gangers had erected a small wall around the shack, probably six foot tall. Platforms stationed at intervals held one man each for a total of five.

As I approached, I grabbed a lantern I had swiped from the town before I left, after lighting it, I opened and closed the door three times, pause, three times again. When one of the lanterns lighting the area around the shack flashed three times, pause, and then another three I knew I wouldn't be shot on sight.

Still, the men in the two platforms that faced me had their rifles aimed at me.

"Cobb!" One of them yelled out. Within a minute, the same black man as before came out, a revolver was held tightly in his hands.

"You again!" He said loudly. "Didn't I tell you to watch where you're going?" He laughed at that and then pointed his handgun at my chest. "Now you'd best have a good reason for coming here."

"Cobb, is it?" He nodded so I continued. "I would assume you'd have larger aspirations than a simple extortion racket, correct?"

Although he seemed rather puzzled by the word "Aspirations." I think he managed to figure it out because he nodded slowly. "So, my friend, how would you like to become mayor of Goodsprings?"


	4. Command And Conquer

He grinned savagely in the night. "I think I'd like that very much."

"Good." I simply stated. "We'll need to plan an attack." With that, he started to lead me inside.

"What's to plan? We walk in, shoot up the place and kill anyone that resists!" He said quite stupidly.

"Sure. If you wanna kill half your men, believe it or not, farmers know how to shoot. Probably better than some of your men." I nodded my head towards the scum looking men that were evidently smoking something stronger than tobacco in a corner of their base.

"My boys will fight harder than any farmer!" He insisted ignorantly.

"Maybe, but that won't stop a round from flying through their skull. A plan might." His grin fell.

"And who's planning it, you?" He asked.

"Unless you've had men who ran with mercenary groups since they were six?" I asked sweetly, he shook his head quickly.

"Then I suppose, yes. I will plan it." I stepped inside the shack and called for a map of the region to be delivered. Soon enough, one appeared and I set myself to the task of fucking these assholes over so bad, they wouldn't live to regret letting me into their base.

When I was done, Cobb decides he wanted to look it over and declared. "This looks like a fine plan… Thanks friend." He then raised his hand from inside his coat to blast my face away.

Turns out, I was faster. All one hundred and eighty pounds of me flew into him as he struggled to find his aim with the heavy revolver. My shoulder slammed into his chest and he went down onto the ground.

Now, I wouldn't consider myself an expert in martial arts, I won't lie, I'm more comfortable with a rifle in my hands. But I'd fought too many goddamn tribals that insisted to charge me and try and fight me with a knife or a club or some other Paleolithic era type weapon that I'd say I'm experienced.

So, while I had the experience of years of melee combat, Cobb had the advantage of years of gang warfare and prison fighting. He was able to roll out from under me and onto his feet, spreading his weight into a evidently familiar fighting position. I quickly charged him again, he went to slam a fist into my face, but i ducked out of the way. A few jabs here, a few there, his defense wasn't great and eventually i was able to get a solid hook in.

He slammed into the door and swiftly made a retreat, calling for his men to gun me down, but I sprinted out after him quick enough, his men's hands were on their guns, but in a relaxed sort of way, like they were watching two rabid dogs fight but weren't too sure what would happen when it was over.

"Come on Cobb!" I called out a challenge. "What're you? Some chickenshit coward? Fight me you goddamn candy-ass!" his nostrils flared and like a bull, he out all his weight into a full fledged frontal assault. I jumped to the side and he nearly slammed into the wall of the shack.

"Hey Cobb." I said with a grin infecting my voice. As he turned around to look at me, at the half moon of men that had begun to surround us, he finally noticed one, little, crucial detail.

I snagged the revolver off the ground before I left.

His eyes widened, full of fear, and i was deaf to the protests that started out of his mouth. I shot the yellow-belly in the head. Twice, three times, his skull was a mess of demolished mush, but i really didn't want to be in checker's position, so i made sure i got the job done.

The crowd was silent as i turned to face them. "Well?" I asked while i dusted myself off. "Get back to your positions! Meeting at eight o'clock AM, sharp! If a single man isn't there, i'll slit your throat myself."

And quite unceremoniously, they departed and left me with a bloody lip and a heaving chest. Though a good feeling in my gut.

I'm not dumb.

At least, I don't think I was.

I really hope I wasn't, that wouldn't be good.

Although for now, the shock of the death of their leader was enough to keep these cowards in line, it was only a matter of time before someone tried to take me out.

Therefore, I had to put my plan into action much sooner than I anticipated.

"So," The Gangers, all seventeen of them, glared at me as I stood in front of their collective. "You were led by a man of incomprehensible stupidity, that much is obvious." The men assembled in front of me made no reaction to this. "However! Now, I have come! Do you want to spend the rest of your lives as some two bit raiders that can barely scrape two caps together?"

Their interest evidently started to rear its head at this statement, after all, if you need an alcoholic to do something, offer him a drink.

"I say, we take this force of nature that is us, and we become conquerors! No more caravan raiding! No more petty squabbles between us!" Some of the men, those of lower class, who had less to lose, began to get feral grins in their faces. They were fucking cowards, they were hungry for power, lusting for dominance, but would refuse to grab it for themselves.

At the very least, three men, evidently men who had been leaders before Cobb absorbed them stood up and started to argue against me. "That's our way of life! You just got you you outsider prick, fuck off with that "us" talk!" One protested.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Please, calm yourselves, I have a proposition I believe you'd rather listen to!" Two of them glanced uneasily at me, but shut their mouths. The third however, a short, stocky Hispanic man still argued against me.

"And how are we supposed to trust you? Huh? How do we know you won't just waste us?" He had a angry look on his face, I could tell that it was faked. He couldn't give a damn for the men around him, this was a power grab.

"Well if you come here, I'm sorry what's your name?"

"Name's Rico." He mumbled.

"Rico, my friend if you could come here, I'll show you!" He tentatively took a few steps towards me, and eventually gathered his courage, though his hand was glued to the pistol obviously in his pocket. "If you'll see here." I raised my arm out towards the direction of Goodsprings. "There's a small town called Goodsprings over that hill, and it's ripe for the picking. Cobb, he would've killed you in a full frontal attack, you'd have been cut down!"

He scowled at the ground and said. "Yeah, sounds like that bastard."

"Exactly!" I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "So Rico, I won't do that! I served for years in multiple mercenary companies, I have experience!" He gave me a glance out from the side of his eyes.

"You're obviously no coward Rico." He turned his head fully towards me in surprise.

"Follow me my friend, and I'll make you my lieutenant." The other two started to protest behind me, Rico had a split look in his eyes. I nodded and smiled at him.

As the other two were advancing behind me, I still stood facing towards Goodsprings as the morning air blew around me, the sun had already warmed it to legendary proportions.

I heard the two gunshots I was expecting.

Rico appeared beside me again, and held a handgun in his left hand, it was shaking slightly.

"Coffee?" I tilted my head as I asked him.

It was six in the evening, the sun was starting to set and the wind was growing cool again.

"Rico," he glanced up at me from his position kneeling with binoculars. "Status of the town?"

"Lightly defended, Mr Hiram sir." He said as he went back to peering through the binoculars. "I don't like it, town that size? Should have more than six or seven people on guard."

"So you're thinking an ambush?" I asked. He knew I was testing him, even if he was going to die soon that doesn't mean I couldn't teach him.

"Yessir, that's what i'd do. Probably saw us getting ready and figured an attack." He had put down the binoculars now and was loading a magazine.

"Rico, if you suspect an ambush, there are only a couple of ways to know for certain, unfortunately, we have no long range ordinance in order to flush them out, so we must commit a piecemeal of our forces in order to test the water." He glanced up at me with a questioning look and I nodded slightly.

Using a flashlight, he sent in first squadron. With four men left at base to defend, I had ten left to work with. Three were in three squadrons, first squadron was the largest with five men, armed with regular rifles and dynamite, they were our main staying force. Second squadron was three men, armed with heavy automatic weapons, they were our fire support. Finally, third squadron was two men. A sniper and a spotter.

Rico and I were acting as reconnaissance and command.

As first squadron engaged and he saw there was no ambush, I motioned Rico to send in second and third squadrons. As these men were cut down by the less than optimal positions I had put them in, Rico looked towards me in utter surprise and fear. "You fucking liar!" The young man screamed.

I looked sadly down at him, his rifle was held limply in his arms.

"I'm sorry Rico." I said. "But you don't have to share their fate, you're a smart young man, you could do something good with yourself!" I urged him.

He glanced up at me with hate in his eyes before he shot upwards and slammed the butt of his rifle into my face.

As I tumbled off of the hill we had been standing on, I heard gunfire come from behind us, the camp was falling as well.

Rico, panicked and angry, sent a shot into my gut.

The pain was intense, it went right through my clothes and I could barely see through the haze of pain but I saw Rico take off into the distance.

As I lay there dying, I propped myself against the hill and took the pipe I had stolen from Chet out of my bag. I unraveled a cigarette I had in there and tipped the tobacco into the pipe. I sat there, dying and puffing on a pipe as the sun went down and everything slowly grew cold.

The last thing I saw before I passed out was someone running towards me…

AN: Cliffhanger! Sorry to leave you on the edge of your chair like that, but it's for story! I'm able to write this more easily than anything else I've written. I don't know why exactly, but this is easy for me to write even with less time. So I guess we can expect more chapters? Thanks for reading! Please leave a review so I can improve what's bad and do more of what's good! Thanks again! - Cryosmith.


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